Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s never felt like this before. He can see the world around him, he knows he exists, but he’s not present. Imogen is there, a hand on his forearm, tears in her eyes, but her voice isn’t making sense. 

Nothing has since she’s said, “I’m sorry. I’m not in love with you. I don’t think I ever was. I think it was just, like, what was expected of us? Of me? But I’ve met someone else. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean, you met someone else?” It’s completely shocking, that thought. Someone else? They’ve been together for years. Fucking years . They’re about to graduate from university, they’re living together, they were supposed to get married, eventually, and it’s all falling apart right in front of his fucking eyes. 

That’s when she started crying. 

“Im– What– What’s his name? Do I know him? How long has this been going on?” He’s angry, he can’t help it. He never thought he’d be the person who shouted at his partner, but fuck . He never thought she’d be the person who broke his heart.

“It’s– it’s not a ‘he’. I’m a lesbian. I’m so sorry.” She cries harder.

What? he thinks to himself. “What?” he asks aloud. 

“I didn’t know,” she says. “I promise, I didn’t know the whole time. I can move out. I’m actually, um, I’m going to move in with her. I’ll get my things this weekend.”

“How long, Imogen?” How long has everything he’s known been a lie?

She won’t meet his eyes when she says, “We’ve been seeing each other for almost a year, but I swear, we didn’t sleep together until recently. Two months ago.”

“What?” he asks again, dumbly, the word hardly coming out. His body is there, in their kitchen– his kitchen, now– but he’s floating above it, watching this scene. It hurts.

How long has it been since they’ve had sex? he wonders.

“Nick. I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”  

**

He cries himself to sleep that night, alone in his flat. His entire life has just gone up in smoke. After she stopped crying and he stopped dissociating, they sat together and talked. It’s the least they could do after so fucking long together. They’re friends. Or they were. 

She told him how, during this last year, she’d been going through her own self-discovery journey. It took her so long to tell Nick because she wanted to be absolutely sure. And because she loves him, she’s just not in love with him. Or sexually attracted to him. 

They’ve been having sex for five years, and she hadn’t enjoyed any of it? He was stupid enough to ask that question. She enjoyed it, she said. It was fine. He was nice and he tried so hard. But then she slept with a girl and realised what sex was supposed to feel like.

And that fucking hurts, too. Because the truth is; he thought this was what sex was supposed to feel like. It was never mind-blowing or world-shaking, like it is in the movies. But yeah, it was nice. It was always soft and sometimes silly, gentle and calm, and comforting. They were friends, and they loved each other, and they were each other’s firsts and onlys, so they learned what they liked together. And they stuck to that.

They never, not even when they started, tore each other’s clothes off or had to have each other. They were too mature for that. That wasn’t what sex was like in the real world, for real people. Or at least that’s what he thought. Maybe, apparently, it is. If you’re having it with the right person.

He doesn’t bother asking if she ever faked it with him, because he’s not a complete idiot. He knows the answer.

*

The next day, he does the only thing he can think of; he shows up at Charlie’s door. 

They’ve been best friends since school. They almost almost were a thing, he thinks , back when he was in Year 11. Charlie was his queer awakening and his first real, honest-to-God crush, and he probably also liked Nick back. Thinking about it makes him feel something like regret, now.

It also makes him feel sorry for Imogen, that it took her this long to discover who she really was. Maybe they would have saved themselves some time. 

She wanted him, though. It’s why he and Charlie never happened. Imogen wanted him, she got him, and she kept him. It was that easy. 

That, and his cowardice. It was much easier for him to push down what he was feeling for Charlie. He couldn’t possibly imagine himself, rugby king, dating a boy. Not at Truham. And then, it was too late. 

But they’ve been best friends since. Almost more. In the way that he’s had Imogen, he’s had Charlie, just without the sex. Charlie’s been there for him for everything, more than Imogen, really, because he’s been there for the fights with her, too. He’s heard the things Nick wasn’t able to share with his girlfriend. He’s had Nick, platonically, in his bed– drunk, sad, hungover, sick. He’s had Nick’s arms around him while cried, and his arms have held Nick, too. Charlie has always been there for him. He knows he’ll be there for him now.

“You look like shit,” Charlie says to him, with a smirk, when he opens the door.

Nick isn’t up for that, though. He’s not ready. The wound is too fresh, and he feels like he’s bleeding out, here on the doorstep. “Too soon,” he mutters, stepping inside.

Charlie gets it, immediately. “Go lay in bed. I’ll be right there.”

Charlie doesn’t know how to help Nick through a breakup, because it’s never happened, but Nick has helped Charlie through a lot of them. The routine is the same every time; physical touch. It’s Charlie’s love language. 

It takes Charlie a long time to come in, for some reason. Nick’s burrowed in bed, tucked into Charlie’s blankets, head on his pillow, breathing him in. It’s comforting, Charlie’s smell. He doesn’t smell like anything in particular, nothing Nick can place. He just smells like peace and calm. It soothes him in a way nothing does. It recharges him, refreshes him, does something to his brain chemistry when he inhales.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text,” Nick says.

“It’s okay. I heard.” Charlie climbs in next to him and pulls Nick to rest on his chest. Nick breathes there, too.

“You heard? From who?”

Charlie hesitates. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“It’s Sahar.”

Nick sits up straight. “ Your Sahar?” he asks.

“She’s not mine , but yeah. From Queer Intentions.”

“She told me it’s only been going on for a year!” Charlie’s been playing with them since secondary. 

“I think it has,” Charlie says. “I believe her. But, they were friends, yeah?”

Nick lays back down. “Yeah. Best friends.” 

Charlie hesitates for a second. “People get feelings for their friends all the time. Fall in love with them.” Just the sound of his voice, the way he says it like it’s a fact, makes Nick’s head turn.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head up to look at Charlie. He knows how stupid he sounds. But what the actual fuck is happening? Is Charlie saying what he thinks he’s saying?

“People fall in love with their best friends,” Charlie says again. And then he scoots himself down so their eyes connect, cups Nick’s face, and leans in so close Nick can feel his breath, his heartbeat . “And maybe they hide it, because they don’t want anyone to get hurt. Or they’re scared,” Charlie says, so quietly Nick can barely hear him. “But I know you’re lonely– you’ve been lonely, Nick. Things haven’t been good with her for a while now. I know.”

Nick is shocked silent. He’s right, of course. But Nick would never, ever have admitted that.

Charlie moves even closer, until their noses are touching and Nick has to close his eyes to stop Charlie’s face from going blurry. “I can treat you better than her,” Charlie whispers, hotly, like he believes it with every fibre of his being, and he’s trying to convince Nick to believe it, too. “When you’re ready,” Charlie continues, thumbs running over Nick’s cheekbones roughly, “I’m here.”

Nick feels his mouth open, instinctively, tipping forward to meet Charlie’s lips. He doesn’t think about it, has no idea if he’s ready , probably isn’t since his long-term relationship just ended yesterday, but his lips part and his whole body moves, trying to get closer, drawn in without thought. Their faces are so close, there is hardly any distance to cross. But Charlie’s lips don’t meet his. He opens his eyes to see that Charlie has pulled back. 

“Think about it, first,” Charlie says firmly. “Because I don’t want this to be something you do and then regret. I’ve waited six years for you. I want you to want this like I do.” Charlie’s thumb moves down and traces over Nick’s bottom lip and all he can do is breathe. 

His entire relationship, with both Imogen and Charlie, flashes before his eyes. Does he want this? Yes. The real question is– has he wanted this all along?

“Think about it.” Charlie leans down and kisses his forehead, lingering there. His thumb remains, though, on Nick’s open mouth, and he stares for a moment at it, while Nick stares at him staring. 

Charlie seems so calm, but Nick can see how fast he’s breathing. He can only imagine the kind of bravery it must have taken for Charlie to do this today. Or the kind of restraint it must have taken for him not to have done this all along.

“Okay,” he agrees, because he wants to do this right, too. “I’ll think about it.”

**

He thinks about it all night. And all day the next day. 

He dreams about it.

The day after that, Imogen comes to get her things. Nick lets her take the bed– it’s bigger than the one at Sahar’s. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want this thing with Charlie, if it becomes what he knows now that he wants it to become, anywhere near that bed, where he tried so hard to please someone who was never going to be pleased. He disassembles it, loads it into the van they brought, and then leaves. He doesn’t need to watch all the pieces of his life get disassembled, as well.

Instead, he goes to Charlie’s.

When Charlie opens the door, Nick falls into him, hugging him so tight he can hear the breath rush out of Charlie’s lungs.

“Hi,” Charlie squeaks out, surprised.

“Hi.”

*

Charlie guides him back to his room, and Nick stands there, waiting for Charlie to say something.

Charlie doesn’t. He crosses his arms and looks at Nick expectantly. 

He needs to go first. 

“I thought about it,” he says, right to the point. 

Charlie’s mouth quirks up, but he’s looking at Nick the way he imagines a predator looks at his prey. Charlie’s never looked at him like this before. 

“Yeah?” Charlie asks, taking a step closer.

“I want it, Charlie, but it’s new. It’s–I’ve never done this.” 

“Done what?” Charlie asks, still walking slowly over to him. Charlie knows. He knows everything about Nick.

“Any of this,” Nick says. He’s had a total of one relationship. He’s never broken up with anyone, started something new after a breakup, dealt with messy emotions and reminders of a life he used to have, tried to get over someone who broke his heart, had to build his confidence back from the ground up. 

He’s never kissed his best friend. 

He’s never fucked a guy. 

“Any of this,” he reiterates. 

“It’s okay,” Charlie says. Now he’s standing right in front of Nick, in his space. “I have.”

Nick’s stomach flips and his heart pounds. Show me how , he wants to say. “I want you,” he says instead.

Charlie takes the last step and backs Nick right up against his bed. Nick’s mouth opens, again. He’s not sure why he keeps doing that. Maybe it’s because he wants Charlie’s thumb there. Or because he’s having trouble dragging in enough oxygen.

“You want me? ” Charlie asks, before bringing his hand up to cup Nick’s face. “Or you want sex?”

“You,” Nick says, immediately. “I want you, Charlie.”

Charlie scans his face, his eyes, before finally dropping his thumb back down to Nick’s bottom lip. “Okay.” 

And then finally, finally , Charlie kisses him. His thumb slides over, and his mouth meets Nick’s, and they both sigh into it. Nick’s arms shoot up to wrap around Charlie, gripping the fabric of his shirt and holding tight, so he doesn’t slip away. So this doesn’t disappear.

Charlie’s hand moves up, around to grip the back of Nick’s head and pull him down further so he meets Charlie where he stands, instead of on his tiptoes. 

Charlie’s other hand drifts down to his belt. 

“I haven’t–” Nick starts, but that’s not true. He has . 

Charlie’s hand moves away, to trace up his stomach instead. Up, up, over his chest and back up to join the other at Nick’s neck.

“I didn’t mean for you to stop,” Nick manages to say, between kisses.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t ask for,” Charlie says, once again firm. 

It calms Nick. “Thank you,” he says. “It’s just– it’s probably going to take me some time to get used to this.”

Charlie nods. “Would you like me to touch you, Nick? Because I’ve been dying to touch you. I can make you feel so good, baby.” Charlie has moved to his neck, peppering kisses and licks and bites, teeth and tongue, and Nick has to sit down. 

“Yes,” he gasps out, scooting back on the bed and opening his arms so Charlie can join. “Please, touch me.”

“With my hands or with my mouth.” Charlie is breathing right by his ear, fast and hot.

But Nick panics for a moment at the question. Imogen hated using her mouth. He worries he’s bad at it. Or it’s not good. Or there’s something wrong with his dick, and he’s not good. He wants to use his mouth, put it all over Charlie’s body, anywhere he’d let him. He’s just not sure, though, about having it done to himself.

“Hands.” 

Charlie doesn’t question him. He finds Nick’s belt, again, and unbuckles it one-handed. Nick wonders how many belt buckles Charlie has undone over the years, and is hit with instant regret. If only he hadn’t been so scared, could he have been the only one? Could he have had Charlie all to himself?

Charlie’s unzipping his jeans now, widening them, putting a hand down, in between the denim and the cotton of his boxers. “You want it,” Charlie says. It’s not a question. Charlie’s telling him he wants it, feeling how he wants it. He wants it more than he’s wanted anything in a long time.

“I do,” he agrees. 

Charlie touches him, over his pants, and it’s an art. He hasn’t been touched like this since he and Imogen started having penetrative sex. Years. It’s been years since he’s been fully clothed and taken apart.

He realises, though, as it goes on, that he’s never been taken apart. Not like this. 

He knows his mouth is open, again, head back, eyes shut, body tense. Charlie’s mouth is on his neck, his leg is thrown over Nick’s, holding him down while he writhes. His hand that’s not in Nick’s pants is at his mouth, thumb there on his lip again, and Nick’s never been touched in so many places at once before. 

This is not just a handjob to get him off. It’s full-body arousal. It’s all his senses being flooded with input. It’s someone who loves him wanting to make him feel good. 

With a rush, he realises: It’s what sex should be.

“Oh my God, Nick,” Charlie gasps, voice rough. “You’re so good.”

“Touch me,” Nick pleads. 

Charlie’s hand moves back up his shaft, over the cloth, then up further until it hooks into the elastic of his boxers, before beginning to move back down again.

Nick groans, and Charlie’s thumb curls further into his mouth, over his lip, his teeth, to rest on his tongue. Mindlessly, he sucks it.

“Do you like this?” Charlie asks, not rhetorically. He’s wondering; does Nick like this? Does Nick like the way he’s touching him?

He nods, frantically, so Charlie continues, dragging the skin of his cock over and over, providing his thumb for Nick to suck on, pinning him down with his leg and his skill .

“It’s like no one’s ever touched you before,” Charlie breathes, when Nick starts to shake.

No one has, not like this. 

He wishes she had left him sooner. If this is what she felt with Sahar, he understands now. He can’t possibly be angry with her for wanting this.

“I can feel you fighting it, darling,” Charlie says before he sucks sharply on Nick’s neck.

He’s not trying to. He’s never felt like this, the build-up this strong, and he’s scared it’s going to rip him open. 

“Relax.” Charlie slows everything down, all at once. “Wanna watch you come apart for me, Nick. I want to see you go higher for me than you’ve ever done for her.”

“Charlie.” His thighs are clenching, muscles spasming, he’s grabbing at Charlie’s arm to try to get him to move faster, yet he knows he’ll come just like this, too.

“Wanna get those pretty eyes rolling, Nick, I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for years.”

Nick whimpers. Then he cries, tears leaking and rolling down his face, unchecked. What has he been doing with his life? Why didn’t he kiss Charlie at that party, years and years ago? Why did he waste so much fucking time? Why didn’t he see how much Charlie loves him?

Charlie’s forehead touches his, and everything slows even more. “We still have time,” Charlie says to him, softly, reading his mind. “I love you, and we have so much time.”

He uses his thumb to wipe Nick’s tears, but all it does is drag saliva across his face, making him wetter. He opens his mouth again and this time it’s Charlie’s lips that find his. Charlie kisses him, and speeds up his hand, and Nick’s eyes actually do roll back as everything in him rises higher and higher.

Higher, higher, he’s fucking flying now, and Charlie changes positions so quickly and smoothly, Nick doesn’t even notice, until Charlie’s sitting on his thighs, using both hands to twist and pump, and Nick flies apart.

His hands shoot behind him to grab the headboard as he comes and comes, mouth open but silent. 

This is what sex is supposed to be , he thinks again. He feels new. Healed. Remade.

And this was just a handjob.

*

After Charlie’s cleaned him up and tucked him back in and wiped his own hands, he cups Nick’s face and kisses him again, leaning down over his chest.

“Charlie,” he says, still in shock. It’s all that’s left in his mind. She is gone, and her name and image has been completely replaced. Charlie.

Charlie smiles at him, and Nick watches as he adjusts his erection in his own jeans before he lays on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks, voice genuinely concerned, soft but sure.

“I don’t know,” Nick says honestly. Is he okay ? Probably not. It hurts, for so many more reasons now.

“Do you regret it?” It’s the first time he’s heard any doubt in Charlie’s voice.

He turns and rolls on top of Charlie, bracing himself so he isn’t putting any of his weight on him. Imogen never liked being crushed.

“Never,” he reassures him. “I wanted that. I’ve been wanting that. I just had no idea.”

Charlie smiles at him and they kiss again, Nick opening his mouth to Charlie like it’s second nature.

“You were so perfect,” Charlie sighs. “I never thought you’d react like that.”

“Like what?” Nick wants to know what it looked like from Charlie’s side.

“Like you were dying of thirst,” Charlie kisses him again, deeply, “and I was water. Like I’m what you need.”

“You are,” Nick says, suddenly realising that Charlie told him he loved him. “I’ve always needed you, Charlie. You’re my best friend. I love you. And now…”

“And now,” Charlie agrees.

They lay together for a long time, and Charlie never asks for reciprocation. Nick doesn’t know why. He tries not to take it as rejection. Charlie probably doesn’t want to push him. 

Then he remembers that he didn’t ask for it.

“Charlie.” He sits up. “Can I touch you, too?”

Charlie looks at him for a long moment, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated. “Not today,” he finally says. “I wanna savour this.”

Nick’s eyes go wide.

“I don’t want to rush it. I want to make sure you want it, still. I want to make you want it.”

“I want it.” He wants it already. All of it.

“Yeah?” Charlie asks, flirtatiously. “What do you want?”

Nick says the first thing that comes to his mind. “I want to bury my face between your legs.”

Charlie’s flush deepens, but he doesn’t flinch. He brings his thumb up, once again, to Nick’s lips. Slowly, he pulls it down and Nick drops his bottom jaw with it. “Is that why you keep opening your mouth?” It comes out as a breath, a wisp of air, and Nick wouldn’t have even heard it if he wasn’t staring at Charlie’s lips.

Yes , he thinks. “Yes,” he says aloud.

Charlie hums, and kisses him again, licking into his mouth, which never closed. “Give me two weeks, baby, and you won’t even recognise her.”

He’s never felt like this before but he knows– this is what is supposed to feel like.

Chapter Text

After Nick goes home, to his now-empty flat, Charlie lays on the bed and remembers. He pulls up each moment of what just happened, each smell and sound and touch and taste. Each sight of Nick finally falling apart under him. He knew it would be good. He has known all along what Nick needs, in bed. He’s waited years to show him.

He wanted Nick to touch him, too, of course he did. But he knows that he needs to play this safe. He wants this to be it . The last first-time for him. He had always promised himself that if Nick ever became single, ever broke up with Imogen, he would jump on it, not let Nick slip away again, not let his insecurities ruin his chance at a happy ending. Because he has known since he was 15 that Nick Nelson is his happy ending.

Nick, though, may change his mind. He may need to be alone for a bit, after this. He may be more hurt than he seems right now and need time. He may want to sow his wild oats or whatever the fuck it is that Charlie’s been doing all these years. He may not want to go from one long-term relationship immediately into another.

So Charlie just couldn’t go all-in right away, despite wanting to. Despite the fact that, when Nick said he wanted to bury his face between Charlie’s legs, he had to physically stop himself from pulling his head down there himself.

Nick isn’t like that, though. He saw the beginning of it, of Nick and Imogen, of course. He’s seen them kiss and hug and hold hands and he hasn’t ever, ever seen a spark of heat pass between them. They were comfortable and seemed to know each other so well, and it was that familiarity and comfort that made him jealous of their relationship, almost more than anything else; they were really, really good friends. But then, as they all moved on and grew up and started having sex, Charlie learned to recognise that what Nick and Imogen had was too safe.

It was boring. Nick would tell him, when he got drunk enough, that he thought Imogen faked orgasms with him and that he was shit in bed and that he just wanted to make her happy and he didn’t know what he was doing wrong. Charlie saw how upset he was about it. Of course, eager-to-please Nick, not even able to please his own girlfriend. But he knows it’s not Nick’s fault; Imogen just didn’t know what to do with him. 

But the thing is: Charlie does.

He’s had years to practice. He’s practiced on guys whose names he couldn’t remember. He’s practiced on guys who’ve become boyfriends. He’s practiced on one guy he’s actually loved. They’ve all prepared him for this moment; the moment he gets Nick, gets to open him up to what attraction and desire and lust feel like. The moment he gets to show Nick what sex can really be when you have the spark.

He knows it’s all there between them, they’ve felt it for years and both ignored it in favor of being good people and not fucking things up. But he’s seen how Nick stares at him, when he thinks Charlie isn’t looking. He’s watched Nick’s eyes lock onto his mouth, drifting down to his throat, when he drinks a beer. He’s watched Nick’s gaze fall to the skin of his stomach when it’s exposed in a crop top. He’s watched Nick unable to drag his eyes off Charlie’s hips and ass and the outline of his dick while Charlie’s purposefully grinding on someone in the club, turning so Nick can see everything that’s on offer. 

He never, ever crossed the line, though. Nick needed to be the one to do it. Nick was the one in a serious relationship. Nick was the *near* virgin, the one with way less experience. Nick had to be the one to instigate it. 

Now, though, all bets are off. Charlie’s done waiting, and Nick has suffered enough at the hands of apathy and bad sex. He’s about to light Nick’s world on fire, and the thought is thrilling. 

He doesn’t touch himself after Nick leaves. He wants Nick to have it, his first orgasm where he’s thinking of him guilt-free. He wants to give it to Nick like the fucking gift it is.

The next day, Nick comes over again. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says as soon as Charlie opens the door.

“Yeah?” Charlie asks. He’s unable to keep the dopey smile off his face, no matter how sexy and cool he’s trying to be. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, though.

Nick smiles back.

They go through to Charlie’s bedroom immediately. “Can I touch you?” Nick asks, settling on the bed. “I just want to touch you, Charlie, it’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

“You sure?” Charlie needs to check. As much as he wants to tear Nick apart and break down all the walls, he wants to be sure. 

“So fucking sure, Charlie.” 

They kiss and kiss on the bed, not going anywhere else but that, palms fitting onto curves of shoulders and necks and jaws. Charlie can feel Nick melting into it. He’s not forceful, doesn’t try to take the lead at all. He lets Charlie roll them any which way he pleases, lets Charlie’s tongue in readily. Charlie tilts his head to change the angle, and Nick reciprocates. He can feel the sweat on Nick’s skin, the warmth of him and his arousal, and Charlie is so fucking high on the fact that Nick is kissing him like this. Finally.

Nick trails his hand down Charlie’s chest, then pulls it quickly away, back to his neck.

“You can do that,” Charlie says to him, breathlessly.

“Sorry.” It’s self-conscious and Charlie realises Nick’s laughing at himself.

“Why are you sorry?” Charlie asks.

“I just, um,” Nick looks into Charlie’s eyes, vulnerable. “I didn’t find what I was expecting.” He laughs at himself again, but Charlie pulls away.

“If you’re looking for something familiar, Nick, you’re not gonna find it here.” It comes out a little colder than he meant, but if Nick is looking for breasts and a cunt, he needs to stop this now.

“No! No, I’m sorry, I know it’s you, Charlie, but it’s…it’s new.” Nick leans down and hides his face in Charlie’s neck. “Sorry,” he breathes. “Just muscle memory.”

Charlie feels him closing off, physically and emotionally, and he can’t have that. 

“It’s okay.” He tries to be as reassuring as he can. He pats Nick’s head, but it remains lodged in his neck. So instead, he grabs as much hair as he can and pulls back, forcing Nick’s eyes to meet his. “Nick, do you want me? Like, me , specifically. Charlie.”

“ Yes. ” Nick kisses him again, like he’s afraid Charlie won’t believe him. It’s harder and needier and the heat that was between them flares up again. As soon as Charlie takes control of it, though, Nick gives in easily. 

“Try again,” Charlie directs, and Nick does, one hand trailing back down Charlie’s chest. Nick’s on top and Charlie pulls back to watch Nick watching the path his hand is taking. Nick licks his lips as his hand makes it all the way to the bottom of Charlie’s shirt.

“Can I?” he asks, making eye contact.

Charlie nods and sits up halfway, making it easier. Nick’s mouth is open again, staring and breathing fast, and Charlie can see the outline of his cock in his joggers. Those fucking joggers have been teasing him for years and Nick is moving way too slowly, dragging Charlie’s shirt up his stomach like he’s actually afraid to take it off. But no, he’s just enjoying it. Charlie tries to enjoy it, too, except he wants to be the one to unwrap Nick.

When Nick finally pulls the shirt off, he folds it and drops it carefully onto the floor before returning his gaze to Charlie’s face. “You look…” he looks, and then says nothing, but Charlie gets the meaning.

“So do you,” he says, before pulling Nick back down into a kiss. 

Nick’s hands wander a bit, but he seems to not know what to do with them, seems to be uncomfortable taking the lead, so Charlie flips them again. He straddles Nick’s lap and enjoys Nick’s expression of awe and absolute fucking submission , like he wants nothing more than to let Charlie take him apart and rebuild him.

“Your turn,” Charlie says, backing up so his face is hovering right over Nick’s stomach. Nick moans, and his hips arch up off the bed, but Charlie ignores that. He gives Nick the same slow, torturous experience, only he follows the hem of the shirt with his lips, trailing kisses along all the skin of his stomach that he’s seen and not touched for years and years. He wants to lick water off it, suck bruises into it, bite marks all over it, lay his head on it.

Nick gets louder the further up Charlie goes. When he gets to Nick’s chest, he runs his tongue over Nick’s nipple, and Nick makes a noise so loud that Charlie worries about what the next-door neighbor will think. Not enough to stop, though.

“Do you like that?” he asks. Obviously, Nick likes that.

“I didn’t know,” he says. “I never, I mean, she didn’t really, like, touch my nipples.”

“Are you fucking joking?” Charlie asks, pulling back.

Nick looks at him, confused. “No?” 

“Where else didn’t she touch you?” he asks, voice low and seductive. If she was too squeamish to touch a man’s nipple, what the fuck else didn’t she ever do for him?

Nick’s mouth is open again, and this time, Charlie can’t help but run his thumb across his bottom lip. Nick stares at him, before he darts out his tongue to lick at it.

Charlie takes that thumb, now wet, and brings it down to pinch at one nipple, and Nick almost bucks Charlie off him with how hard he reacts. 

“Sorry,” he gasps. “ Charlie .” He says Charlie’s name like it’s a shock. A revelation.

This whole thing is a fucking revelation.

“Do you want me to stop?” Charlie asks. He doesn’t want to overwhelm him. This is only day two of, hopefully, forever. Charlie can wait.

Nick reaches for Charlie’s forearms. “No, please don’t stop,” he says. “I…” he hesitates, and Charlie leans down to kiss him, to give him confidence. “I used to think about you, sometimes,” Nick says softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Nick confirms. “There were times, like when we would go out dancing, when I wanted you so bad, it was…there was nothing I could do, but I wanted you.” Nick sounds sad and it is sad, actually, to think that he was possibly unhappy in his relationship, or wanted out, all the while Charlie was there, waiting.

“You have me now.” Charlie bends Nick’s head to the side and sucks on his neck, careful not to leave a mark. Not yet. Nick has him, always, but he’s not sure he has Nick. 

They kiss, teeth clashing at first, until Nick breaks it and bends his neck, inviting Charlie to kiss him there once again. He likes it, like having Charlie’s mouth there. Charlie catalogues it and moves on. 

Collarbones; yes, Nick likes that, tongue and lips and suction and even teeth. Throat; yes, Nick likes that, too, likes gentle licks and likes when Charlie tilts his head all the way back until he’s looking at the wall behind him and gets his mouth right up under his jaw. Nipples; fuck yes, Nick likes that, likes when Charlie flicks them with his tongue, pinches and rolls them, lets his teeth graze them, likes when Charlie splays his hand out on Nick’s chest, cups his pecs, and thumbs at them. Charlie tries everything he knows, every trick and technique he’s learned, and makes Nick fall apart under him.

It’s like a dream, the way Nick responds to him. He’s never been with anyone like this. Of course he hasn’t; there’s no one like Nick. He’s never had the kind of chemistry, the immediate bonding, that he’s had with Nick. Not with any other friends, not with any other lovers. 

When he takes a moment to check in, removing his face from Nick’s chest, he sees that Nick’s eyes are clenched tightly shut and his heart drops to his feet.

“Nick?” he asks, fear gripping his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Nick says, too quickly.

Charlie removes his hands, soothing them on Nick’s shoulders instead, and lays down next to him. “What’s going on?” he asks, gently.

Nick turns to look at him and the only thing Charlie can read is hurt . “Sorry,” Nick says. He’s said it too much, tonight, but Charlie doesn’t correct him. “I have never felt more out of my league than I do right now.”

That confuses Charlie. “What?” 

“My God, Charlie, you are so fucking hot. And good at this. And I’m…Why are you even wasting your time on me? You can’t possibly think I’m ever going to be able to make you feel the way you’ve made me feel. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Nick covers his face with both hands, and continues talking. “I would try, I promise I’m not purposefully being shit and just laying here and doing nothing, but lately, before – I mean, it was clearly after she had met Sahar– it was just, like, quick. She wanted me to fuck her, hard and fast, and she would get herself off, she didn’t want me to touch her, and I thought…I don’t know what I thought. And then it just stopped altogether.”

Charlie doesn’t even blink. “That’s because she didn’t know how to handle you, Nick.” He removes Nick’s hands from his face and holds them in his. “Forget it all. All the bad things, all the times she made you feel like you were a bad partner. You can’t keep comparing this. I’m not her, and I fucking know you. I know you better than she ever did, and I want you more than she ever could. You don’t have to hide anything from me.” 

He sees Nick’s eyes start to water, and he wants to continue. He needs to excise this feeling, pull it like a rotten tooth and remove it from Nick’s body so he never, ever feels inadequate again. 

“I know you’re hurting right now, and that’s okay, I’m with you for that, Nick. It might take time. I have time. I’m gonna take care of you, and keep you safe. I promise.” Nick reaches up, and Charlie meets him halfway, for a kiss. “And,” Charlie says, need once again rippling through him as he feels Nick’s resistance give way, “I’m gonna fuck you better than her.”

Nick groans at that, and pulls Charlie all the way down onto him, letting Charlie pin him to the bed at the hips and the wrists.

“Need you,” Nick gasps out, writhing underneath him. “I’m ready, Char, ready for it, want you, please.”

Charlie shushes him; Nick is not ready for it. He just thinks he is. 

“Can I touch you again, like I did yesterday?” Charlie asks. 

“I wanna touch you.” Nick’s hands find his ass, and pull him down so they can grind into each other. “Oh fuck, this feels so good.”

Charlie barely contains his smirk; Yeah, Nick is definitely not ready for it.

“Do you wanna come like this?” Charlie asks him hotly, voice right in Nick’s ear.

Nick shivers and holds tighter. “Is that okay?” he asks. “I’m not sure…Charlie, it’s so good, you’re so hard…I can’t…”

They clash lips again, grinding into each other, but soon Nick has to pull away to catch his breath. He looks at Charlie, eyes wide and lips parted, so Charlie slips his index and middle finger in, right onto Nick’s tongue. He can’t wait to slip his cock in there one day, watch Nick have that for the first time. 

“You like having something in your mouth, don’t you, baby?” Charlie asks him, watching as Nick’s whole head bends back in pleasure. Charlie chases it down, not letting his fingers leave. “I can give you that. Fill that pretty mouth of yours like she never did.”

Nick breaks. Charlie watches as he falls apart, watches as his eyes close and his face and neck and chest flush red. Nick grabs him, both hands tight around his back, gripping his naked skin as he arches and comes, letting Charlie’s fingers stay right there, not pushing them out with his tongue, but opening wider on a groan and a sigh. 

Charlie gets him through it, to the other side, where Nick’s eyes are open but still glassy and his grip is tight but not bruising. Nick doesn’t seem to want to let go. Charlie doesn’t, either. Not this time. 

“Nick,” he gasps. “You’re so beautiful, gorgeous, wanna–” He doesn’t say what he wants to do. Consume you , he thinks. Imagine all the ways possible to rip you open just like that, again and again.

“Don’t stop this time,” Nick says to him, moving his hands back down to push Charlie’s hips firmly against his.

“Never,” Charlie says. “I’m never gonna stop, Nick. You’re mine, please, can you be mine?” He’s on the edge, so fucking close, and it’s finally getting to him, the weight of what they’re doing, of how much has changed in such a short time. The line between them has been so far crossed, Charlie’s heart is wide open and he can never, ever come back from this, if that’s what Nick wants.

Thank God it’s not. Nick’s hands move from Charlie’s back to his face, cupping him gently. “I’m yours, Charlie. Thank you for waiting for me.”

Charlie comes, finally, letting Nick see everything on his face, in his eyes. Nick is talking to him, gently, but Charlie can only hear the sound of his heart beating and his life changing. 

When it’s over, they kiss again, like they’ve been kissing their whole lives, until Nick lets his face nuzzle against Charlie’s. It’s comfort and home and fucking Christ , Nick jumped into this faster than he could ever have dared to dream. Which must only mean one thing. 

“I think,” Charlie says, holding back tears, “You were waiting for me, too.”

Chapter Text

They don’t see each other the next day. The day after, though, Nick texts and says he is meeting up with Imogen after work to give her some stuff back, but he would like to come over after. Charlie’s not sure what shape Nick will be in when he turns up– will it be difficult to see her? To hand over a box of stuff? Will he be glad to be rid of it?

Charlie is expecting Nick to come over at six. Charlie invited him for dinner and dessert. Except dessert will be sex. And, probably dinner will be sex, too. And Nick will most likely spend the night, so breakfast can be sex, as well. They’ll eat something somewhere in between.

It passes six, though, and Charlie doesn’t hear from Nick. Six-thirty. Seven. By seven-twenty, Charlie’s mind is providing him with the worst-case scenario which is that they’ve decided to give it another try and that Charlie is now rendered useless and a broken mess.

He sits on his bed, propped up against pillows and doom scrolling until he hears a knock. He never got a text. It has to be Nick, though, right? 

As soon as the door is open, Nick says, “God, that was shit,” and collapses into Charlie’s arms.

Charlie tugs him inside and back to his room and into his bed, where Nick goes willingly. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Charlie asks.

“I told her about us,” he says, quietly. “She wasn’t very happy. She wasn’t not happy,” he clarifies, looking at Charlie, because this is weird– she was Charlie’s friend. “But…” Nick trails off and looks at Charlie, deciding what to say. 

“But?” Charlie prompts.

Nick hesitates. “But, our friendship– you and me– that was kind of a thing, in our relationship, pretty much the entire time. She was really insecure about it. She always thought that I liked you. That I wanted you. And I did, of course, so I think I overcompensated and tried extra hard to make it seem like I didn’t. And she got to say she was right tonight.”

Charlie takes a deep breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I kind of did. I wanted you when I shouldn’t have. And that probably made her unhappy, and I should have done more to–”

“Nick,” Charlie interrupts, because fuck this. “She’s a lesbian. Your dick made her unhappy. There was nothing you could have done differently.”

Nick laughs, sudden and sharp. “Yeah. She also made that clear tonight.”

“Can I ask you something?” Charlie’s not sure he even wants to know.

“Of course.” Nick rolls, though, and hides his face in Charlie’s neck again, which means Charlie can ask but Nick may not want to answer.

“Do– did – you love her?” 

“I did, at one point. I’m not sure when I stopped. I don’t anymore.” He says it with such surety that Charlie doesn’t doubt it to be true.

Charlie holds him tighter. “Why did you stay?”

Nick speaks this next part into Charlie’s neck, like a secret. “It was easy. She was there, at uni, and she helped me and took care of me and we did, honestly, I mean– we worked, for a long time. It worked. It was what was supposed to happen, I thought. It was fine.”

“Just fine? Neither of you should ever have settled for ‘fine’, Nick.”

Quietly, again, Nick says, “I didn’t think there was any other option, really. I didn’t want to start over.” 

Charlie doesn’t believe that for a second. “Nick, you could have had anyone. Literally.”

But Nick is already shaking his head into Charlie’s neck. “Didn’t want anyone. I wanted you. If I left her, I wanted it to be for you. If I was going to break her heart, it had to be for a good reason. It had to be for something better.”

Charlie’s throat constricts. “Why didn’t you?”

“It seemed impossible. I thought about it a few times. More than a few. But you were– God, Charlie, you were just so incredible and you were finally able to just be you and you were having so much fun and dating all these cool guys and I knew I would just bring you down. I could never keep up with you. And there was no way to know if it would work, for sure, and I couldn’t risk it.”

“And now?” Charlie asks, because Nick is risking it now. 

“Now,” Nick says, pulling his head back from Charlie’s neck to look him in the eye. “Now nothing seems impossible.”

Charlie kisses him, because how can he not? Nick melts into it, and Charlie rolls on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress and pushing his thigh into the space between his legs. 

“Charlie,” Nick says, breathy and hungry, “This is all I’ve been able to think about. I want you. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you.”

Charlie dips down to kiss at Nick’s jaw, stubble scratching against his skin. “I know.” He balances on one arm, letting the other drop to rub against Nick’s dick in his jeans. “Can I touch you?”

Nick groans, so Charlie goes for the button on his jeans, but Nick’s hand suddenly grabs him. “No,” he says. Then he uses his weight and strength and flips them over, so he’s on top of Charlie, and Charlie stares at him wide-eyed. “I want to touch you.”

Charlie’s been holding off on this, a last measure of self-protection, but Nick is insistent and so fucking eager, licking down his neck, hands running up his shirt to brush his thumbs against Charlie’s nipples, and it’s as if Nick’s desire has finally outweighed his hesitance. 

He clumsily takes Charlie’s shirt off, getting it stuck on his chin on the way, but then he kisses it to make up for it, and Charlie almost laughs. He’s so fucking cute, always has been this over-eager people-pleaser, and now Charlie gets to experience the benefit of that in the bedroom. 

Nick continues south, exploring every bit of Charlie’s skin, and Charlie lets him, watching and wondering what he’ll do next. If he’s ready for more. 

When Nick gets to the band of Charlie’s sweatpants, he stops. Charlie props himself up to see what’s going on. Nick’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing hard, forehead resting against Charlie’s tummy. His mouth is open, like he’s scenting Charlie, and it makes his blood rush in his ears.

“Nick,” he says, firmly.

Nick’s eyes snap up. Charlie can see everything in them, the want and fear and vulnerability and the fucking future. He runs his hand over Nick’s forehead and up into his hair, gripping it, before he pulls Nick’s face down, right in-between his thighs. He can feel Nick’s groan, the hot air rushing out of his open mouth. 

“It’s okay,” Charlie says, soothingly. This feels like something big, like something that’s going to change everything, again.

Nick curls his fingers around the waistband and pulls them down, both layers, and Charlie watches, unable to help himself. He wants to see Nick’s reaction.

Nick’s eyes are closed again, though. Eyes closed, mouth open. He hasn’t even bothered removing Charlie’s bottoms, stopped halfway down his thigh to plant his hands there and freeze. Charlie waits, until finally Nick’s eyes open and he puts his face right back, in the space between Charlie’s thigh and his groin, and breathes. 

“It’s okay,” Charlie says again. “You’re so good, I want you, too.” He wants to reassure Nick. Anything he does is good. And this, this obvious overwhelm laced with need is so, so good. 

Nick is breathing hard and heavy when he looks up at Charlie, finally. “I said, the first time, that I wanted to bury my face between your thighs. But that’s…” he trails off, eyes darting away from Charlie’s face.

Charlie waits, but he knows what Nick’s struggling with. It’s not exactly the same, with him.

“That’s not all. I want to do that, but I also want…” Nick moves over, then so gently, he holds Charlie’s cock still while he licks at the head, right over the slit, and they both moan at the same time.

“You want me in your mouth?” Charlie asks, breathless already. Nick nods, breathing hard, mouth open. Charlie drags a finger along his bottom lip again, pulling it down. “Go ahead.”

Nick is slow, like he’s trying to map the skin with his tongue. He doesn’t take him into his mouth, just licks the shaft and the head and down the shaft again, and then he pauses at the root for a moment, unsure, before he moves down further and takes one of Charlie’s balls into his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Charlie gasps, grabbing at Nick’s head like he’s wanted to this whole time. Nick hums and it vibrates through him, and then Nick switches to the other, doing the same thing, before Charlie drags him off.

“Was that not good?” Nick asks, suddenly shy again.

“You’re doing so good,” Charlie says, petting at Nick’s hair. “Making me feel so good, baby.”

Nick groans at that and licks and mouths at him a little more, before he removes his mouth completely and then he’s nosing at Charlie’s balls, up under them, pushing his legs out, and–

“Oh–fuck–” Charlie can’t believe what’s happening right now, Nick is buried between his thighs , and–

“Charlie,” he gasps out, voice shaky, and Charlie looks down at him again to see that his eyes are red-rimmed but dark, and his cheeks are flushed, and he looks so fucking gorgeous, like he’s the one getting pleasure, not giving it.

“Hey,” Charlie says, cupping his face, trying to pull him up but Nick resists it.

“I want to…” he puts his face back, with no technique, just sucking and kissing and licking everywhere, hungry for it like a starved man.

So Charlie starts to guide it, guide him, pulling his head where he wants him, and Nick lets him, seems grateful for the instruction, for the patience. And he’s a fast learner because soon he’s using his tongue to drive into Charlie and his hands to cup and roll his balls and pump his cock and Charlie’s getting so close he has to stop it.

“Wait,” he says.

Nick stops moving immediately. He rests his face there, in the crease of Charlie’s thigh again, and breathes in like he’s dying.

“Why?” he asks. He sounds hurt.

“I’m too close,” Charlie admits. “I wanna touch you, too.”

Nick looks up at him. “I want to make you come. I wanna make you feel so good, Char. I love you and I wanna make you feel good, wanna know it was me doing it. Please, let me.”

He watches as Nick rubs his open mouth against his skin, drags his bottom lip across his thigh, nuzzles into him, and he realises Nick’s waiting for permission before he goes back in.

“You wanna keep eating me out?” Charlie asks, voice low.

Nick groans and sucks a mark onto Charlie’s thigh and is probably leaving bruises where his fingers are gripping him. “Yeah.” It’s just a sigh against Charlie’s skin, but he’s already pushing his legs open further in anticipation.

Charlie grabs his hair again and moves him back where he wants him, and Nick’s tongue comes out, a hard, straight point. Charlie starts grinding himself against it, while Nick gets a hand back up to stroke him.

“Wanted this,” Charlie gets out, past the heavy arousal clogging his throat. “Wanted this so bad, baby, for so long, knew you’d be so good, make me feel so good. I knew she wasn’t using you the way you needed to be used.”

The hand that’s still on his thigh squeezes hard.

“You like when I talk to you?” Charlie knows the answer, can feel it in the way Nick is getting frantic between his legs.

“You are so fucking hot,” Nick rasps, voice low and rough, before he goes back to what he was doing.

Charlie just hums and fucks Nick’s fist and his face until he’s so close, he feels high, like he’s so high up, coming down might kill him. How can he ever live a normal life, now, with the memory of Nick between his thighs burned into his mind?

Suddenly, Nick moves. He pushes himself up on his hands and leans over and takes Charlie’s cock so far into his mouth that he gags on it.

“Sorry,”  Nick says, coughing, and it occurs to Charlie that this is the first time he’s apologised for anything all night. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Charlie says gently, rubbing his thumb on Nick’s cheek. His face is wet with his own spit and he’s staring up at Charlie like he’s the answer to everything, to all the hurt he’s feeling and it calms Charlie a bit, pulling him back down to himself.

Charlie wants to be the answer so fucking bad. And he knows the answer, right now, is to let Nick make him feel good. He wants Nick to know that there’s no faking it here, there’s no reason to be shy or hide what he wants or have to earn his place somehow. He’s not going to be told he’s bad at this. He isn’t bad at it, and the fact that he thinks he is is a crime.

Charlie taps his bottom lip with two fingers and Nick automatically opens wider. “Let me show you what to do,” Charlie says to him, and then he slides his fingers into Nick’s mouth. “Don’t have to go too far,” he says, quietly, demonstrating. Nick’s eyes flutter shut as he sucks on Charlie’s fingers. 

“Breathe through your nose.” Nick does, a ragged, deep inhale.

“You can move your tongue.” Nick does, rubbing it along the bottom of Charlie’s fingers. 

“You’re doing so well,” Charlie praises, and Nick’s eyes open, locking onto Charlie’s. They’re wide, pupils blown, and there’s a bit of surprise in them, too, like he can’t believe Charlie is praising him for this.

“Now pull back and let it rest on your tongue.” Nick does, Charlie’s fingertips the only thing in his mouth. 

Charlie is breathing hard. Watching Nick watch him, doing exactly what he says, is like a drug. He’s already addicted to this. He knows, and hopes, that soon Nick will be more confident and this won’t feel so fragile and important, but right now it is. It’s fragile and so fucking important.

“You can use your tongue on the head.” Nick is still looking at him when he does just that, swirling his tongue around Charlie’s fingertips and dragging it in between them.

Charlie pulls his fingers away and uses the same, wet, hand to grip his cock. He wants Nick to make the move, though.

Nick holds eye contact until the last second, moving slow in case Charlie wants to stop him. He would have to be insane, though, to want to stop this. Watching Nick take his cock into his mouth is one of the best things that’s ever happened to him, right behind hearing Nick say, ‘I love you’ and ‘I want you’.

Nick stops halfway, like Charlie showed him, and then he moves his tongue, like Charlie told him, and Charlie can’t watch anymore because it’s his most guilty-pleasure fantasies come true. It hurt too much to fantasise about Nick, but when he did, he came so hard to thoughts of doing just this– having Nick for the first time, making Nick want him more than her.

“Nick,” he has to say, has to try to let him know that this is everything he’s ever wanted and Nick could give the worst, most beginner blowjob in the history of the world and it will still be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “Feels so good, I’m–” 

He cuts off into a sound like a moan and a whine combined when Nick does the next step- pulls back and holds Charlie still and licks through the slit, scooping up everything leaking out there onto his tongue. Charlie stares as Nick brings his tongue back into his mouth and swallows.

Then he starts again, back at step one, taking Charlie halfway into his mouth, but using his own hand on what doesn’t fit.

“That’s it, baby, that’s good,” Charlie manages to say through the unbelievable pleasure. He’s fighting to hold his hips down, to let Nick do this at his own pace. Nick seems to want to throw himself into it, though, going further each time, and when Charlie puts a hand in his hair, he feels Nick’s groan in his entire body.

“Oh my God,” Charlie moans, letting his grip tighten in Nick’s hair again. 

Nick pulls back completely and scrabbles at the button of his own jeans. “I need to…is that okay?”

“Fuck yes,” Charlie practically growls, watching in awe as Nick shoves his pants down just far enough to pull himself out. “You like this? Like having me in your mouth?”

Nick nods, then says, like he’s ashamed to admit it, “I love how you taste.” 

“Get your mouth open.” 

It’s all Nick needs. His mouth opens and Charlie pushes himself in, controlling it this time, only moving a fraction of what he really wants to, watching as Nick’s hand pumps himself fast and Nick’s mouth goes slack. 

“Want you to come, baby,” Charlie encourages, stopping his movement to let Nick focus, but staying in his open mouth. “Want you to come because you’re mine, now, and I’m yours, and you are so good at this, I never want to let you leave, wanna keep you here, protect you, make you come with my cock in your mouth over and over again.”

Nick pulls all the way back, lets out a shaky exhale, and then comes, one hand braced on Charlie’s bent knee, head hanging down. He’s quiet, just breath, and Charlie waits for him to ride it out by rubbing the back of the hand on his knee. 

When Nick looks up to meet his eyes, the only thing he can think to say is, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Nick returns. Then he takes Charlie back into his mouth and begins the pattern Charlie taught him all over again. 

By the third repetition, Charlie can’t hold on any longer. His hips start to move again but he doesn’t want to mess up what’s happening here, the growing confidence in Nick’s eyes, so he tries to stay still until he absolutely can’t. 

“Gonna come,” he grits out, pulling himself out of Nick’s mouth and taking over with his own hand.

Nick follows, though, and wraps his lips around the tip, then opens his mouth and lets it rest on his tongue, and Charlie comes at the sight, working himself into Nick’s mouth. He’s breathing so hard, he feels like he’s high or drunk or about to pass out. He can’t stop staring at the puddle of his come pooled on Nick’s tongue. 

When he stops completely, he reaches out to touch Nick’s face, to tell him it’s okay to spit it out, but then Nick closes his mouth and Charlie watches as his throat bobs and he swallows.

“Been wanting that,” Nick says, turning to kiss the inside of Charlie’s knee. “Been wanting to do that for a long time.”

Charlie’s head crashes back against the pillow, finally, because he can’t take it anymore. 

“Is that okay?” Nick asks, still sounding breathless from his own orgasm.

Charlie laughs. “Fuck yes, it’s okay. I’ve been wanting that, too.”

Nick rests his face against Charlie’s thigh, breathing hard, as Charlie runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Char?” Nick asks, after several moments of quiet.

Charlie’s heart clenches at the nickname. “Yeah?”

“I’m ready.”

Charlie looks down at where Nick is still laying on his thigh, face turned toward the crease of his groin. “For what?”

Nick inhales deeply. “Everything.”